by Menon, David
Jeff picked up the envelope. Blood came flowing out of it and inside were a man’s genitals.
Jeff and Rebecca called a doctor and arranged for a female uniformed officer to come and stay with Annette until the doctor had been and her sister Rochelle had arrived from London.
‘Poor Annette’ said Rebecca in the car on the way back to the station. ‘She was hanging on to such slim hope it seems to me and yet she was so in love with the man’.
‘None as blind as those who won’t see, eh?’ said Jeff.
‘Well she isn’t the first woman in her position’ said Rebecca. ‘But the story doesn’t usually end with the man’s private parts being delivered to her like that. What kind of a sick, twisted mind are we looking at here?’
‘One that I’m even more determined to get now’ said Jeff. ‘At least we know who Piers Jones had sex with before somebody got to him and his bollocks’.
‘We’re ruling out Annette as a suspect then I presume?’
‘Well do you think we should rule her in?’
‘No’ said Rebecca. ‘She’s even less capable than Tina Webb. But who the fuck is responsible and where does the death of Piers Jones leave us in terms of finding out?’
.
FIREFLIES FIFTEEN
When Jeff and Rebecca got back to the station the sergeant on reception called Jeff over and told him that someone was waiting in the interview room for him by the name of Seamus Enright.
‘Seamus?’ said Jeff as he entered the interview room to the side of the reception desk where his brother Lewis’ partner was sitting there in his airline pilot’s uniform. ‘What are you doing here, mate? Is it our Lewis?’
‘Oh no, Jeff’ said Seamus who stood up. He’d come straight from work. ‘Sorry if I worried you. It’s not about Lewis, he’s fine’.
‘Phew!’ said Jeff as he gave Seamus a bear hug. ‘So what can I do for you?’
‘Well’ said Seamus as he sat down again. ‘I don’t know if this is something or nothing’.
‘But?’
‘Well you see last night I was on a stopover in Copenhagen’ Seamus explained. ‘I went out to dinner with the rest of the team and one of the cabin crew was a new girl called Melanie Cartwright. As soon as I’d set eyes on her earlier in the day I knew she reminded me of someone. I mentioned it to her over dinner and she seemed very uncomfortable about it, almost defensive which I thought was a little unusual. Anyway, one bottle of wine led to another, then we all went back to the hotel and went into the bar for nightcaps. At the end of the evening it was only me and Melanie left and she literally burst into tears on my shoulder. She said she’d done something she shouldn’t have and she was scared she was going to get sacked because she was still on her initial three months trial. And it was whilst we were talking that I remembered who she reminded me of’.
‘Who?’
‘Sophie Cooper’ said Seamus. ‘Jeff, Melanie is the spitting image of Sophie Cooper and when I said that she looked absolutely horrified and said goodnight before running up to her room. Then today we did the flight back to Manchester this morning and then a quick return to Edinburgh and back but for all three flights she avoided me and ran like the bloody clappers when our duty finished. I spoke to the in-charge cabin crew member and he said that he thought there was something odd about her. He said she was jumpy all the time and seemed frightened of her own shadow’.
‘So what are you telling me?’ asked Jeff.
‘Well I did a little digging with our crew roster department’ Seamus went on. ‘The night of the murder of James Clifton, Sophie Cooper’s fiancé, Sophie was the only Manchester based crew member working with a team from our base at Leeds. You see, we mainly do scheduled flights to business destinations at Manchester as you know but the night Tenerife on a Saturday is something we’ve picked up for the summer season to get more revenue out of working the fleet harder. But the cabin crew training hasn’t caught up so at the moment we crew it mainly from our Leeds base with one of our Manchester crew there to make up the numbers. The pilots were also both from the Leeds base. Now if none of them knew Sophie because they’d never worked with her before because they were from a different base, then Melanie could’ve easily passed for Sophie because we don’t stand there studying each other’s ID badges. Now I know Sophie and I know what a bully she can be with some of the younger new girls. Can you see where I’m going with this?’
‘So you’re saying that this Melanie could’ve gone to work in place of Sophie Cooper that night because Sophie Cooper put pressure on her and none of the rest of the crew would’ve been any the wiser because they weren’t from the Manchester base?’
‘Yes, Jeff, that’s exactly what I’m saying’.
‘But how? I mean, I thought you all swiped into your report centre with your ID badge and your own personal pin code? And swiped out again when you’re done?’
‘We do’ Seamus confirmed. ‘But what if Sophie had given Melanie her ID badge so that she could go to work for Sophie that night? What if they’d both gone into work, both in uniform, and then swapped ID badges before the Leeds crew arrived? The records will show that Melanie Cartwright left the crew room probably only minutes later whilst Sophie Cooper didn’t leave until the end of her duty the next morning. But really it was the other way round. It is possible, Jeff’.
‘You’re making some big leaps here, Seamus’ said Jeff who nevertheless was letting his imagination turn onto the scenario Seamus had worked out.
‘Yes, I might be’ said Seamus. ‘But then again, I might not be’.
It wasn’t difficult to find the answers they needed. Jeff sent Ollie Wright out to Manchester airport to look at the access system into the crew reporting centre where both Sophie Cooper and Melanie Cartwright signed in to work. As was usually the case these days with airports the presence of CCTV everywhere made the job of the police easier and once Ollie had got through all the flirting that Dean, the tall, fat and rather camp cabin crew manager was inflicting on him, he managed to get to the footage that he needed. He didn’t mind Dean flirting with him. He found it quite funny and though Dean wasn’t at all his type he always found it flattering when someone clearly had the eye for him. Ollie and his partner Josh had an arrangement whereby they allowed each other sexual adventures with third parties as long as they kept it to themselves and didn’t exchange telephone numbers with whoever they got off with. They loved each other dearly and had a good sex life. But their cocks required a little more freedom and variety from time to time. It was an arrangement that some wouldn’t understand but they were the ones who couldn’t see that having sex with someone else didn’t mean you loved your partner any less. Emotional fidelity was important to Ollie and Josh. Physical fidelity wasn’t something they attached any importance to so long as they did it discreetly and didn’t rub each other’s nose in it.
What Ollie saw on the tape turned out to be just as Seamus Enright had imagined. Both Sophie Cooper and Melanie Cartwright swiped their ID’s and entered the crew reporting centre at 8.27 on that Saturday night, both in full uniform. Nine minutes later at 8.36 ‘Melanie Cartwright’ swiped out again. Except that on the tape it was clearly Sophie Cooper who was leaving at 8.36 with a nervous look around her as she went. She wasn’t seen again and the woman known as Melanie Cartwright didn’t leave until the next morning although according to the security swipe she was Sophie Cooper.
When Sharon Bellfield first came out of university her father insisted she take any job she could find because he’d ‘given her more than her fair share already’. So she managed to secure a job in the typing pool of one of the last remaining textile firms just outside Bolton. The place was full of two-legged relics. Even the younger members of staff acted like they’d already been downtrodden by the sharp realities of life. They didn’t have a rank structure amongst the typists but one of the girls who called herself a ‘senior’ was called Anne. Sharon absolutely detested her. She was never seen without a packet of crisps in her h
and which was nothing in itself but which irritated the shit out of Sharon because it meant that wherever Anne was there was this crunching sound of crisps being devoured in her stupid mouth. She never seemed to eat anything else either. She never brought any sandwiches in or a bowl of salad or pasta. But she took it upon herself to come down hard on anyone who said they enjoyed a drink because of the example of some distant uncle in Darlington or some other such place who was a drunk. Sharon argued with her that just because someone likes a drink it doesn’t make them a drunk, violent or otherwise. But this was how it is with people like Anne. They’re such dull people leading such dull, pointless lives because they haven’t got the guts to go out and get a good one that they come down hard on people like Sharon who like to go out and enjoy themselves. She always wore the most disgustingly old-fashioned clothes and she could moan and complain for England but the thing that really bugged Sharon about Anne was that despite having the disposition of a wet weekend in Scarborough she always signed her departmental notes ‘Annie’ and she always turned the dot on the i into a flower.
‘Welcome to the Mayfair hotel, Stockport, how can I help you?’
‘Yes, hello’ said Sharon. She was impressed that Anita greeted her at the reception desk playing the game well and showing no signs that she was pretending she’d never met Sharon before. ‘I have a reservation for this evening’.
‘Okay, and the name is, please?’
‘It’s Annie Flower’ said Sharon who always used Annie Flower’s name when she needed a disguise. She wondered for a moment what the daft cow was doing now. Probably still eating crisps all day in some office environment where she pretended to be a senior. ‘Miss Annie Flower’.
After her previous meetings with Anita Patel, Sharon had decided to check in to the Mayfair hotel to find out for herself any evidence suggesting it was one part of a wider prostitution ring involving staff in hotels across Greater Manchester. But this was only to be part of the investigation. She was keeping the most shocking revelation Anita had told her, about what she knew of what happened the night three years ago when Kim Barnes was murdered on her wedding night in the Manchester Hilton, to provide the kind of twist in a story that would make her journalistic career. But she needed to be careful. Anita could be in grave danger once her information is out but Sharon wasn’t sure if she could keep her powder dry until Anita was safely back with her family in India.
Sharon was then approached by Anita’s Czech male colleague Tomas who worked as a concierge who offered to carry her case to her room. And Anita had been right. Tomas was gorgeous. Tall and burly with big shoulders, neatly kept short blond hair and the most appealing green eyes. A quick look downstairs and Sharon didn’t think she’d be disappointed with his packet either. He looked like a big boy and although she wasn’t a size Queen she didn’t like small dicks.
‘So do you always escort guests to their rooms, Tomas?’ Sharon asked after they’d come out of the lift at the second floor and were walking down the corridor.
‘Sometimes’ Tomas replied in his typically Eastern European accented English. ‘We need to special care of customers because we had some troubles here last week. Police have been here asking all kinds of questions’.
‘Because of the murder of James Clifton?’
‘Yes’ Tomas confirmed. ‘But I did not tell you that. My boss doesn’t like us to talk about it with guests’.
‘Oh don’t worry’ said Sharon. ‘Your secrets are safe with me, young man’.
Tomas smiled cheekily. ‘I have no secrets’.
‘I’m sure’.
They got to room 227 and Tomas opened the door and let Sharon go in. She was pleasantly surprised by the modern tasteful décor. She’d been expecting something rather different and old-fashioned.
‘This is one of our newly refurbished rooms’ said Tomas. ‘Everything is touch button for curtains, lights and so on. And of course there is free Wifi in the room’.
‘And what about room service?’
‘Yes’ said Tomas who by now had let the door close. He lifted up a book from the occasional table by the window and opened it out for her on the room service page. ‘Here it is. Or we have restaurant downstairs’.
‘How old are you, Tomas?’
‘How old am I? Well I’m twenty-three but why do you ask such question?’
‘You’re here to earn money and improve your English?’
‘Yes? But again I don’t know why you ask?’
Sharon took off her coat and perched on the end of the bed. She outstretched her arms and placed her hands slightly behind her. Then she looked up at him. ‘I was wondering if there was any special room service that you provide? I’m sure you know what I’m talking about’ She watched Tomas’s face lighten as the penny dropped. She slipped her foot out of her shoe and ran it up the inside of his lower leg. ‘You’re so handsome in that uniform by the way. I’m sure people have told you that before’
Tomas smiled. ‘Would you like to see me out of it?’
‘I would like that, yes’ Sharon answered. She was almost whimpering like some daft teenager at the anticipation of seeing Tomas naked. He was ten years her junior and she really should remain professional but he was so bloody fit and a girl has needs. And besides she was a tabloid hack who’d stop at nothing to get to the heart of the real story. Nobody would expect her to act responsibly and just ask Tomas the questions she needed answers to. James Bond always fucked first and asked questions later. She was carrying on a fine old British tradition. The fact that she was a journalist and James Bond was a fictional secret agent was a mere detail. She knew what she meant and she’d be able to justify her actions to anybody.
Tomas stepped up close to her and stood coyly with his hands together behind his back. He leaned down and spoke softly. ‘One hundred pounds cash for oral stimulation and the fuck of your life. When I’m hard I’m nine inches and I’m a very talented boy’.
‘Fuck’s sake’ said Sharon, feeling giddy at the thought. ‘Let me get my purse’.
‘Oh and I’m in complete control’.
‘I wouldn’t have it any other way’.
Now Sharon had been around the block a few times but this would be recorded in her memoirs as a high point. Apart from the wonderful licking out he gave her, Tomas took her in the usual way of straight couples the world over but then he also took her from behind dog style, he took her over the back of the chair at the desk in the room, he took her up against the wall and when she was down on him she felt his fingers wave their way through her hair. She discovered that he was a master at holding off his orgasm, despite the obvious pleasures that were being unleashed, not least the orgasms Sharon was experiencing. And when he did let himself go he exploded inside her like a bomb shaking the very foundations of a building. It took her all her time not to scream the place down with joy.
‘You weren’t joking when you said you were a talented boy’ said Sharon, breathlessly. She was lying on her back with Tomas beside her. She looked down and could see that he was still semi-hard. ‘I suppose you go to the gym and all of that?’
‘Yes, of course, every day. And you?’
‘No’ said Sharon. ‘That’s why I’m more out of breath than you are’.
Tomas leaned over and cupped her breast with his hand. He raised his thumb and used it to play with her nipple. ‘I have to go soon. Anything else you want?’
‘Information’.
‘What?’ asked Tomas, his face etched in confusion.
‘I need information on the way this hotel is run, Tomas, with particular regard to the kind of room service I’ve just received. I’m not the police so don’t worry about that. But I am in a position to pay you very handsomely, a lot more than a hundred quid, and your anonymity will be protected at all times. I can promise you that. So what do you say?’
‘You have tricked me?’ he asked looking almost angry.
‘No, Tomas, I haven’t tricked you’ Sharon assured. ‘I’m a journalist a
nd I’m on your side’.
‘I don’t want my name in newspaper!’
‘You won’t get your name in the newspaper. You have to trust me, Tomas. Believe me it will be worth it to you financially and nobody will ever know that we talked except you and me’.
Tomas looked suspiciously at the door and then all around the room as if it might be bugged or something.
‘Tomas, it’s just you and me here’ said Sharon. ‘You’re not in any trouble. Now do you like what you’re doing here?’
‘You don’t like what I did to you?’
‘Tomas, I loved what you did to me, any woman would. I’m asking if you wouldn’t rather keep it all for your girlfriend?’
‘I don’t have girlfriend’ Tomas declared. ‘I don’t mind having sex with lots of different people. I’m young and its fun for me’.
‘But Tomas, wouldn’t you rather keep all the money you make for yourself? What my newspaper can pay you would enable you to set yourself up, maybe in London, as a professional escort keeping every penny for yourself’.
Tomas still looked sceptical. He sat up and raised his knees before folding his hands in front of them. They were sitting there still naked, still winding down after their session. But Sharon had to get him on side if she was going to get to the heart of the story she was after.
‘How much money?’ Tomas asked.
‘Four, maybe five figures?’ Sharon suggested encouragingly. She had to get the balance right. If she was too pushy he’d run. ‘Then you could say goodbye to all this and put those wonderful talents of yours into being your own boss. This is about you, Tomas, and the future you could have’.
FIREFLIES SIXTEEN
Jeff and Rebecca were driving to the Knutsford home of Manchester gangster Bernie Connelly and were intending to get there just as the team Jeff had ordered to serve a warrant on Connelly to search his house would be there and ready to start work.
‘Do you think there is such a thing as an honest rich person?’ said Rebecca as she looked at all the large houses that stank of money as they passed by them.
